Remembering the Storm of 87

"Earlier on today apparently a woman rang the BBC and said she had heard that there was a hurricane on the way. Well if you are watching, don't worry, there isn't."

I woke up and knew that something was different. The bedroom was eerily dark - and there was a rumbling and blustering outside the window that I hadn't heard when I had gone to sleep the previous night.

My first thought was for my six month old baby. The light switch flicked uselessly and I had to feel my way along the walls, out into the corridor and into my daughter's room, where, to my relief, she was still sleeping soundly - thumb in mouth.

Making my way back to bed, I parted the curtains and a scene from a bad horror film confronted me. The trees waved savagely and the thin arms of the lilac whipped at the ground but the worst of it all was the roaring of the wind.

The walls of the house trembled and I clutched at the bedclothes.

"I'm going to check downstairs," said the baby's father, feeling blindly for the door.

"Don't go," I said.